


The City Runner

by Shelpytheturtle



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Action/Adventure, Books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1994172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shelpytheturtle/pseuds/Shelpytheturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite there already being a book 3 and 4, this is a new sequel to the Maze Runner - we will find out how the story goes as i wing it :) . . Side note: I am new to archive and didn't realize my story says finished. Ha. haha. hahaha. Lol i just started</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1   
“Pssst.”  
Moist breath penetrates my personal bubble  
I choose to ignore it  
“Heeeyyyyy.”   
The warmth shoots in to my ear  
A shiver shakes my existence  
I slide my arm underneath the pillow and roll over on to my stomach  
“PSSST.”  
Now my shoulder pulls back unexpectedly   
I bury my face further in to the borrowed softness   
Nobody is home!   
Maybe It will go away  
“THHHOOMMMAA-“  
Or not.   
“-AAAAASSSS”  
It obnoxiously whispers my name  
I clamp my hands on to the edges of the pillow  
Hoping this inhumane creature will let me sleep   
“Wake up WakeupWakeup!”   
But I can’t manage to block out the high-pitched whines   
Five more minutes, I beg inwardly, hoping, if it is Teresa, that she will get the message  
“TTTOMMMBBUSSSS.”   
I guess it’s not her.  
“TTTHHO-“   
I shoot up in my bed. “Slim it!” I bark, as I almost slam my head against a shadowy figure. The figure retreats just a smidge, and I hope that my sleep-heavy eyes and thin-lipped grimace portray the idea that I want it further away than just a smidge.   
“Seriously?” I continue groggily. Though, noticing the occupied beds around me shifting in agitation, I lower my voice. That doesn’t stop the dark glare I am giving that I hope the shadow sees.   
The smidge becomes a midget as the shadow dares to inch back towards me. It looks like it is dancing some tribal tribute, readying itself to sacrifice me or something.   
To my dismay, It completely ignores the idea of personal space and leans against my bed. The bed shakes. I can feel the shadows breath creepily warming my neck. I am too annoyed to be wary of its mysterious identity.   
“Thomas,” it says again, this time quieter and more urgent. How does it know my name?   
I see a glint of blue staring intense daggers at me. My fingers stealthily claw beneath the covers, searching for the sharpened piece of wood I had managed to cultivate being ushered to bed with the others Gladers- er, ex-gladers now?   
My eyes are finally beginning to adjust.   
Without much warning, just as my fingers clasp around my make shift stake, the shadow melts in to a young blue-eyed boy. A boy who is dancing in the middle of the night, in front of my bed, with his hands in front of his pants.   
My grip on the stake loosens, but remains steady beneath the blanket that is draped over me.   
I realize dimly that he must be one of the younger boys who were forced to participate in The Maze; one I didn’t much interact with. I can’t think of a name to match his fair skin and dark hair. Jefferson? Chardonnay? Elvis? I dunno know. Huh, I remember Elvis but I can’t remember my own parents?!   
“Dude,” the kid before me drawls.   
Can’t a kid get a full night sleep? I wonder.   
But I know the answer to that. No Thomas, it is impossible. Sucks for youuuuu! I loathe that little voice in the back of my mind right now.   
“What’s wrong with you Shuck?” I ask aloud, thinking he has lost his mind due to the past couple days. I mean he probably lost a lot of friends to get here. And he found out his name is a fake one given to him by some group of psychotic petifiles seeking to “help” the world.   
Everyone is somewhat messed up now a day.   
“Dude, Thomas,” the kid says seriously, making me wonder if he really has an emergency to tell me.  
For dramatic effect or petrification or what I have no idea, the kid pauses before speaking again. Every second feels like a second of me not getting rest. I glance around us skeptically. Nope, no boogie men or petifiles; no bombs exploding or Greivers; Just piles of blankets gently rising and falling as the exhausted bodies beneath sleep. Desire jeers at my eyelids.   
“Come on Shuck,” I say, “Spit it out.” I catch myself off guard for a moment. When did I become a Newt?  
Another moment passes. I make like I am going to cuddle back in to bed, because I am.   
“I really gotta pee,” the kid confesses quickly to stop me. His wiggles turn in to uncontrollable jiggling as he speaks.   
My eyes grow wide and I have to force my chuckle in to a throat-scratching cough to save him further embarrassment. I’m sure if the lights were on, I would see his cheeks as red as the inside of the Blood house. Although, if the lights were on (Or the candles, or the sun, whatever it is they use here) he would have already been to the bathroom and I would be asleep. I shrug the thought away.   
“Aren’t you a little big to ask for-“ I begin.   
“I tried man, I swears. I searched all over for a bathroom but-“ his legs shake beneath him as if he might give way. “-I can’t find nothin’. “   
“Alright,” I reply gruffly, feeling worse for the kid than myself. Though I do pity myself quite a lot. Couldn’t I have been woken up for a reason more important, like a hoard of Grievers was barging in or something?   
I rub irritably at my eyes, sigh, and hoist myself up and off of my nice, cozy, though over-used and seeming-to-never-have-been-washed, sweet, sweet bed with an achy groan.   
My muscles still ache. You know, half a nights of sleep can’t cure everything. But a guy can dream.   
I can’t believe this, this teenager in front of me doing the potty dance in the near pitch black. But I can’t just leave this kid wandering around on his own until he eventually klunk’s himself. Though the rest of the boys would find that funny, I just couldn’t think to do that.   
“Come on.” I beckon the kid with one hand, unsure if he can see it, while the other hand, with my stake in my grip, guides me forward bedside to bedside like a blind person utilizing their walking stick. I can hear the kid’s heavy breathing behind me, and the sound of his wiggling as his feet are forced to shuffle across the harsh concrete ground. I sigh again.   
“I think we’re almost there,” I try to say encouragingly, though I have no idea where the bathroom is. I don’t even know where my bed is now as we trek down the hall of black and blue beds and towards a doorway. I think I counted six beds while on our journey, but I can’t quite remember because my mind is still trapped in a daze. The stake clanks against wood. A shadow nearby stirs irritably. Make it past seven beds? I shake my head in disbelief.   
“Ohhhhh man,” the kid whispers, his voice is like a gunshot in the middle of silence. “I am ready to burst! Buggin’ bladder, I don’t think I can hold it!” His hips begin to sway more aggressively than before.   
“You have to,” I say nervously. Ah man, I do not want to have to help this kid find a new pair of pants. “It’s okay. Just- uh,” I mutter, unable to conjure up something to say. I start to tap my weapon more quickly in front of me, as if that will help rather than wake everyone up and cause an uprising.   
“Just, uh,-“ I start doing a little dance myself as I continue forward at a quicker pace. I don’t have to pee though. I just don’t want this kid to.   
Uhhhhh, come on say something I chide myself.   
Eventually, as the bare feet behind me start to slow, I spit out, “Pretend some Greivers are chasing ya and you have no time to stop and if you even hesitate to let your bowels loose you are a dead Glader.” I’m not sure if he heard that or not it rushed out so fast.   
I guess so because the shuffling became quicker and more defined. He stopped talking as he concentrated on the invisible Griever chasing us.   
A bump in to three different beds, two groans of sleepy annoyance, and a curse later I see a light glowing like heaven before us.   
I stop in my tracks just before the grimy curtain that is keeping the room behind it a secret. “All yours buddy,” I tell the boy as I place my hand in the middle of his back and shove him through the curtain.   
His head peeks out though before I can lean against the nearest wall and close my eyes. A visible blush rises to his face as he speaks. “You wouldn’t mind waitin’ would ya?” He asks softly.   
I stare at him for a moment. His brows are furrowed in worry and he is gnawing on his lip. His fingers are tying themselves in the curtain and then untying themselves again and again as he allows his body to lean against the cloth. I forget these kids are just that, kids.   
“Ah, Shuck.” I let loose a smile and ruffle his bed ridden, stressed out hair- if hair could look stressed. “Of course.”   
He gives me a mucky, but toothy, grin of relief and then disappears once more behind the curtain.   
Finally, I can lean against the cool, brick wall wit hout . . .any . . disturb . . ance .   
Thomas? Teresa’s voice explodes in my mind without warning. I nearly topple over to the ground, but find my stake to be handy in balancing me back against the wall.  
Instinctly I let out a verbal “gosh!” but, realizing that no one around me is awake (Considering Teresa was put in a different room because she was female), I close my eyes and focus on speaking inwardly.   
You scared me to death, I scold, though a smile plays at the edges of my lips.   
Sorry, she says, though I can almost hear her smirk. I just woke up and got this weird feeling that you were up too. Everything okay?   
Ya. Just uh-  
I pause mid mind-meld and glance at the dim bathroom light. The curtain billows ever so slightly.   
-Just helping a scared kid, I decide to finish.   
Oh. Okay. A quiet moment passes. I don’t know, something feels weird still.   
Well, I begin, we just found out our names aren’t really ours; we watched a bunch of people die- I stop. My throat threatens to constrict but I shake my head, hoping to rid myself of just a few hours ago. I try to continue, pretending nothing has happened, though somehow I know Teresa has already caught me- we are now sleeping with all that is left of us, in a place that is definitely not ours and definitely different than what we have lived through the past couple of . . . periods of time.   
Teresa’s laugh chimes in my head. I can’t help but think of how nice a sound it is.   
Ya, I guess your right. Feeling weird is probably normal right now, she says.   
I let my head fall limp against the wall. Apparently this kid is constipated, or he just can’t figure out how the toilet works. Either way, I have the inkling that I will be standing here for a little while.   
Do you think these people will help us? Teresa asks quietly, as the silence of the boys room tries to lull me to sleep.   
I open my eyes to survey the room of Gladers. This is all that is left of us; a room full of overly exhausted children. I rub at my face like a small kid.   
I don’t know, I begin. I hope so. But I think we shouldn’t depend too much on others. Just stick as a team right now. We don’t know what is out there. We only knwe each other.   
Good that, She agrees.   
I smile and let my eyes droop closed again. When did you start speaking Glader?   
It just kind of attaches itself to you, she justifies defensively.   
Ya, ya whatever you say. I think that you secretly like it, and want to be a part of-   
CRASH!   
My body jolts aggressively away from the wall. My eyes shoot open. “What’re you doing Shuck?” I yelp in to the curtain.   
“That wasn’t me!” Terror leaks from his voice and sinks in to my bones.   
Wide-awake, I stand inside the doorframe of the bathroom in order to get a panoramic view of my surroundings. A memory from my past stirs in the back of my mind: something about being safe underneath doorways.   
CRASH!   
THOMAS? Teresa shouts in my mind, just as 25 (ish) shadowy heads spring to life from the beds at the same time. 25 voices shout.   
“What the hell?”   
“Stupid Shuck, I was sleeping!”  
“GRIEVERS?!”   
“HEY what’s the big-“   
“I was dreaming so nice, about a girl and-“  
One voice though catches my full attention through all the commotion.   
“THOMAS.”   
I start to think in my mind to Teresa, but after a second I realize that a boy in the flesh has called my name. My gaze easily finds Newt as he jogs up to me, already armed with a post from under his bed.   
“What the-“ He starts.   
I shrug helplessly. “No idea.”   
“Maybe-“  
Hands clasp my waist from behind and immediately I twist around. Without thinking, my hands are up and I am readying to slam my fists into the face of the enemy.   
Just before fists fly though I look down to find the kid’s face gaping up at me in fright.   
“Sorry,” he mumbles in to my shirt. “I just-“ but the rest was garbled.   
“Come on-“ I try to say soothingly, but Newt cuts me off.  
“No time for babies Henry, get up and grab hold of something to arm yourself!”  
Henry stumbles away into the crowd of riled up Used-to-be-Gladers, his pants still untied and dangling too low on his hips.   
Another crash, this one vibrating the mattresses in their frames.   
The boys begin to scramble. Chaos rings in the tightly packed room. My eyebrows rise in bewilderment.   
“Grievers?” I ask Newt.   
The “leader” shrugs non-chalantly, but by the way his eyes dart around the room, never lingering on one thing for longer than half a second, I know he is just as wary as I am.   
I try to mull over what the threat could be, but a voice in my head drowns out all sound.   
Thomas! Thomas where are you? Boys are everywhere, I-   
“Thomas!” Teresa’s body flings towards me, and she nearly leaps in to my chest with the force of her running. But just before reaching Newt she pauses, adapts a professional face, and clutches her right hand tighter around a Glader knife she had somehow come by.  
“Here,” she says confidently, though I can see that her shoulders are hunched with tiredness like the rest of us.   
Another quake rocks the room, causing us to wobble on our feet. I grab hold of the wall with one hand to steady myself, and instinctly my other hand drops the stake to grab hold of Teresa’s arm. Newt gives us a subtle eyebrow raise as he grabs a nearby bedpost. I chose to ignore it, at least for the moment.   
“Alright, well we can’t just sit here like shucks and get killed,” Newt states as the shaking stops and he releases his tight grip. I nod and gently let go of Teresa’s arm. She thanks me, and then watches Newt and I, waiting for orders.   
Newt spins around to face the clamor that has transformed the sleepy hollow in to a frantic battlefield.   
“Alright!” Newt yells hoarsely over the crowd of darkness. “ALRIGHT!”  
The boys pause in the middle of whatever it is they are doing- crafting weapons, armor, buddying up, hiding under beds or covers, tripping, scavenging for weapons they had brought with them from the Glade . . .   
“Calm down ya shucks,” Newt continues. “We have been through a pile of Greivers haven’t we? What can’t we face?” With that, he raises both his hands as if he is about to let lose a battle cry, his bedpost clutched between both hands like a trophy. A few Gladers nod uncertainty. Some cheer in confirmation.   
I don’t notice that Teresa is beside me until she whispers, “a false sense of invincibility? Bad idea I think.”  
I continue looking forward, but whisper back in her direction. “They’re boys. They need a false sense of invincibility.”  
She grunts and bites at her lip. “Maybe.”   
“Besides,” I add. “They know they aren’t really invincible, it’s just nice to hear it.”  
“We humans do enjoy the simplicity and idealism of a lie every once in a while don’t we?”  
I dare to look at her. She dares me a glance in return and shrugs.   
I open my mouth to ask her where such a thought comes from, but before any words can come out a grown up rushes in to the room.   
All eyes turn to the frazzled looking woman who remains beneath the doorway with wild eyes. She has faded brown curls and wide, green eyes.   
“Children,” she nearly whispers. No one makes a sound. “Hide.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Teresa is swept away from me before I can grab a hold of her. She lets out a yelp of surprise and I can’t help the concerned way her name falls out of my mouth as I am pushed against the wall with a harsh thud. Before I know it, her flowing chocolate hair is sucked away between two kids and I can’t do anything to snatch her back.   
Moving bodies are scattered everywhere, running, diving for the ground, pushing their way through other shadowy lumps and obstacles, desperate for a place to hide, desperate for safety from the unknown.   
I force my body to stick to the hard wall and keep still as chaos sprints in all directions. Newt has somehow remained nearby, however his expression is a bit dazed as he clutches his left arm. What appears to be red food coloring dribbles from a scratch in his skin. He must have gotten clipped when the outbreak started.   
In a matter of seconds, half the boys have disappeared; first come first served, hidden deep within nooks and crannies, behind crates, under beds, some trying to share an edge of the toilet seat to stand on. The other half continues it’s search for sanctuary with a heightened fever.   
“Newt,” I bark, as I stretch my spine further up while a couple of Gladers rush by. Newt doesn’t seem to hear me above their exclamations of worry.   
“Greivers?” A kid asks another in a high-pitched whimper.   
“Can’t be. We left them behind!” The other says uncertainty. “Must be worse than Greivers tho if the adults are scrambling too.”   
“Worse?! Oh no, oh no, no, n-“ their voices disappear as the other grabs at the kids sleeve and drags him down out of my view.   
Suddenly, Newt and I are the only one’s left. The transition between chaos and nothing is so quick that my head begins to stir with pain. My heart begins to pound. A silence beyond deafening ensues so that I can hear each squishy thud my heart gives. Why do we have to hide? And why aren’t I hiding?!   
The room is barren, aside from the occasional stray hair bobbing up or eye peeking through a small crack. I shallow my breathing and wonder where the hell Teresa has gone. I hope she has hidden with Minho, or someone just as trustworthy.   
I turn my head towards Newt and press my cheek against the wall. “Newt,” I mutter, not daring to speak louder in case the cause of all this stoops near.   
The seemingly empty room shutters, as if the building is sick with the flu and needs to cough. The wall vibrates my cheek and sends shivers up my spine. I tighten my grip on my stake, reassuring myself that I have a weapon, that I am not completely defenseless.   
Newt finally meets my gaze, though I don’t think it is my voice that has snagged his attention, rather the shaking that follows like an aftershock.   
He brushes his hands on his pants and straightens his shirt as if preparing for an interview. The cut on his arm looks minor, a baby cut, and he seems to have chosen to ignore it. He has faced worse after all. Much worse.   
“Earthquake?” He grunts.   
I shake my head, a memory playing at the edges of my mind. “No,” I say carefully, as I try to egg the sudden wisp of memory on. It feels like a cloud in the back of my mind, a heavy cloud full of water that yearns to rain down on me.“For some reason I know I have been through one of those.” Someone clutching me tightly as we gather beneath a table, me clutching a stuffed elephant just as tightly as the world “dances”; that is what she had told me. But who was the she? “No,” I continue to tell Newt distractedly; amazed at the way the memory had swept in to my mind as I concentrated harder on it. “Earthquakes feel. . They feel like the earth is dancing under our feet. This feels like-“   
“Like a rather large, Griever-related-looking creature has chosen to shake a toy house,” Newt finishes quietly.   
“Ya, “ I say in surprise. The memory slips away at that thin moment of opportunity. I silently curse at myself. “Newt I think we can get our memories-“  
But Newt isn’t paying attention to me anymore. His eyes are wide eyed and trained on the dorm doorway from which the woman had come and gone. His breathing is coming out in shallow huffs.   
“What are you-“ I begin, as I slide my body around to look behind me.   
I don’t need to finish my question. Newt had already told me what is hunched in the doorway.   
“Holy-“  
The at least 8 foot monster screeches, a hefty, deep throated, primal screech that lasts for what feels like too long. My hands go to press hard over my ears, but still my ears scream in protest, they beg me for the terrible sound to stop. Spittle flies from its ugly, purple spotted, gray gums and some of the warm acidic looking liquid reaches my bent elbows.   
“GAH!” I yelp, as the spit makes contact with my skin and bursts in to an angry florescent yellow color. I look to Newt with concerned eyes and shout over the monster’s grumbling. “It’s acid! It burns- his spit burns!”   
Newt gapes at me for a moment, before turning his eyes back to the Griever-Cousin. A whimper arises from somewhere nearby and my eyes flicker around the deadened room. I find a pair of light blue iris’s staring at me from under a bed mattress with terror oozing from their pupils. Henry.   
“We need to distract this thing,” I mumble from half of my mouth to Newt. His eyes travel across the room and he nods in understanding.   
Giving me one last glance, Newt swings his bedpost in front of his chest and moves forward towards the doorway, towards the giant like creature that reminds me of a troll. A troll with four arms, two pairs of sharpened claws, two pairs of sword like hands, six eyes, bubbling warts that spew clouds of black, and an obnoxious, moldy grin that makes me want to puke that is.   
I close my eyes for a moment and almost wish that we were facing a Griever instead. But I brush the thought away as I grip my stake with determination and utter horror.   
I meet up with Newt between two rows of beds and fall in to step beside him. Slowly we inch closer and closer, and as we do, a smell so putrid that I have trouble not keeling over and gagging penetrates our systems. Newt’s nose crinkles up as if he can block out the corpse like smell, but we continue forward anyway, through the jungle of tossed blankets and pillows and what is left of our belongings. I can’t believe that just thirty minutes ago everyone was asleep and I was ushering a kid to the bathroom.   
The creature eyes us like we are ants, but he doesn’t make way to strike or move in any way. His body simply rises and falls like a huge boulder as he breaths. My muscles tense with anticipation. What is it waiting for? Is it going to stand there until we are beneath its bulbous, fat body and then simply gobble us up like a late night snack? Or will it grab us, take the leader of the Glader and the supposed “hero” away and leave all of these kids alone to fend for them selves? Where would it take us? Weren’t all the Maze psychos’ dead? Who controlled this creature? Shouldn’t he be de-commissioned like the Greivers?   
One of Newt’s hands shoots out and gently hits my chest in a stopping motion, stopping my millions of questions as well. We pause. The creature stares at us calmly. We stare right back at it, warily.   
“Sup?” I say in to the quiet.   
The monster grunts, and I could swear his lips twitch upward, as if it is laughing at my informalities. It shifts its weight on to the left hip as if waiting for us to indulge in a conversation.   
“How. . . are . . you . . doing?” I continue meticulously. The creature tilts its head curiously, as if taking in what I am saying. Not set to kill but stun? I think punnily. Unlike the Greivers had been. Newt nods subtly in my direction, beckoning me to keep going.   
“I’m pretty famished,” I state. “Not of food, don’t get me wrong, but of sleep. You know, when a kid wakes you up so you can take him to the potty and then-“  
My eyes flick towards Newt. In my peripheral vision I can see his feet carefully shuffling forward.   
“-A giant, mysterious, but rather handsome,” I wink, “Mons- er- specimen, decides to stop by for a visit, man you can guess that I would be famished.”   
I try to relax, but it is hard to let my shoulders lose and my stake fall limp when the breath of an unknown thing is threatening to choke me. “Anyway,” I sputter with considerable effort. “Do you come around here often?” I feel stupid, like a fifteen year old who stills really believes that Mickey Mouse is living instead of a person in a suit.   
“ANY-WAY,” I rant, proud of my improve skills. Thank you Henry! “Nice weather huh? I mean I haven’t been outside here to really know but I would say-“   
“GO!” Newt shouts above my forecast. I am not quite sure what he means by “go”, but I tumble to meet him in front of the monster that is beginning to stir with a flash of angry in its eyes.   
Newt sends his post straight for the chest, but not being sharp what so ever, the wood plank hits the monster with a solid plunk and clatters to the ground helplessly. It twists its head sideways and looks at Newt. My brows knit together worriedly, but I don’t allow myself a second to ponder what would happen if the creature grabbed a hold of Newt and bit off his head.   
“Hey!” I yell, with a wave of my hands. The creature turns his giant head as if it needs oiling. He stares at me with rage filling in its black filled eyes, and I can’t help but want to squirm beneath its gaze. Obviously being hit with a stick, no bueno. “Friend,” I say cheerfully. “Why do you look so mad?”  
It grunts and I swear one of its tentacle like thingy’s aims to point at Newt.  
“Him?” I say. “Nah, he’s a friend too.”   
It sniffles uncertainty, trying to decide whether to believe me or not. Oh I pray that it does believe me- Allah, God, Satin. . Scratch that . . Jesus, the guy next door! Anybody!   
It’s eyes narrow. Did I think something wrong?   
The creature opens its mouth and begins to suck in a great, deep breath. It holds it in for a moment, its arms doing the wave as they intake the oxygen.   
And then my ears are dying again. The creature screeches, this time more high pitched, directly in my ear, and my eyes water from the sudden impact. I wobble on my legs for a moment, and close my eyes from the dry wind. A piece of spit jumps on to my forehead and I swat at it as it the burning sears in to my muscles, and maybe even my bones.   
“No more chatter,” Newt shouts while swatting away at his own face. The creature finishes his song. “timetogo.” And with that, Newt roughly snatches my arm and pulls me down to the ground. It takes me a second, but I realize what he is doing. Before my knees can meet concrete I slap my hands to the ground and ease myself quickly down. Newt did the same, and is already crawling between the stubby legs of the creature before It even knows what is going on. Newt makes it through, and I start to follow when I feel a rough tug on my ankle. Sigh. Classic movie moment. But how did I know that?  
The tentacle feels slimy on my skin, and yet extremely poky, like a thorn bush, as it starts to drag me backwards. I wince as the thorns dig in.   
“Newt!” I yell, as I try to grab on to the ground, but my fingertips slip and create a bone chilling scratching noise, and offer no assistance.   
Newt grabs a hold of my forearms and pulls. I smidge closer to him, but the creature must be a hundred times stronger. My body drags a foot back in to the dorm.   
“COME ON DON’T . . BE . . A SHUCK,” Newt says breathily as he struggles to keep a sweaty grip on me. “YOU CAN’T DIE NOW”  
I could have laughed. But instead I focused on the task at hand. I looked around me: Newt in front of me, Monster tentacle behind me. And, and, and-Aha! Above me. I glance up grudgingly.   
“Yup!” I say, “It’s a boy!”  
Newt grimaces but endures.   
Without moments thought I untangle myself from Newt, which he doesn’t do quietly or without protest, and take hold of my stake. With a hearty thrust, the stake goes up and pricks the creature’s lower body.   
With a howl, the arm lets free my ankle and I scramble out from underneath the monster and right in to Newt.   
We tumble backwards like conjoined twins before Newt grabs a hold of the hall wall across from the dorm and steadies us.   
“How in the world did he get through here?” I muse, as we detangle ourselves and survey the empty hall that consists of withering gray slabs and dirty footprints and crates containing The Maze knows what.   
“Don’t know,” Newt replies. “But I am pretty sure we are about to find out.”   
The creature makes way to turn his entire body in such a small doorway. The walls shake as its arms whack both sides of the wall and cause it to crumple a bit. My teeth chatter, but the rest of me remains still, already adjusting to the quaking.   
I look each way down the hall. To my dismay, they look exactly the same: dirty, well used, and worst of all, void.   
Where are all the adults? I don’t know, but it is obvious that we are on our own now.  
“See any way out?” Newt mumbles, his eyes never leaving the creature as it struggles to extract itself and pop out right in to them.   
“That way,” I say evasively, and I extend both arms out in either direction.   
Newt punches me in the arm. “Okay well-“  
“Look out!” I bellow.   
The creature puts its head down and begins to race forward. Right at us.   
Out of instinct Newt lunges to the right and I to the left, away from each other to avoid bumping heads.   
I slam in to the ground on my shoulder and pain shoots up my arm and to the top of my back. I clutch at it, hoping the pain will subside quickly so that I can jump up and fight.   
Dust obscures my vision so I can hardly see debris cascading down like a waterfall, let alone whether or not Newt is fine. And I can’t find the giant creature, which I find to be extremely unnerving.   
“Thomas?” His voice echoes ominously in the hall. He sounds okay, though choking a bit.   
“N-newt?” I cough out, as pale dust lodges itself in my throat.   
“Where’d it go?” He asks shakily.   
“I dunno, but it hasn’t squashed us yet.”   
I force myself in to a wobbly sitting position. And then I make myself stand up. My foot is beginning to ache and I have a slight limp to my walk.   
I squint in to the dust, searching for Newt.   
Slowly, the daze starts to fade and settle to the floor.   
I stare ahead of me, searching for Newt with an arm shielding my arms from the excess dirt and rock.   
His figure melts in to form in front of me, but his body is facing the wall, not me.   
“Thomas,” he whispers in astonishment, as he, luckily, twists my good arm so that I face the same direction.  
My mouth falls open. “Huh,” I say. “Well, at least we know how he travels.”   
In the wall stood a large gaping hole the size of a car standing up on its bumper. And not too far away stood three more, each descending further in to darkness.   
“Follow him?” I ask.   
“Follow him,” Newt agrees.   
We climbed through the hole and disappeared in to the shadows.


End file.
